A totally original and new children's fiction short-story about a boy in
post-wartime England whose beloved grandfather goes missing.

"When Harry Watkins went to spend the holidays with his Granddad, he couldn’t
have imagined the adventures that lay ahead.

Foreign travel, secret codes, stolen gold and more lemonade than he could
handle…. But that was just the 'tip of the iceberg'.

And just who was the mysterious Mrs Finch? "

**********

An excerpt of an original short
story:

Harry's Gold by David Carman

Chapter 1

End of term

It was snowing. It often did in winter. Harry Watkins
aged thirteen and a half sat on his small brown suitcase in the main entrance of Wainwrights boarding school for boys. It was the end of term and Harry was
waiting for that familiar noise, the low growl of his granddad's car, an Alvis. It looked and sounded like a racing car and boy, did it go fast.
Granddad was a great driver, in fact Granddad was just great!

While Harry waited he looked out across the courtyard
of Wainwrights and thought about his parents, his mother and father, who
were in America when the war started. They had sent Harry to the boarding
school in Somerset before the war and then when the Germans started sinking
boats and ships in the Atlantic, they had sent a letter explaining that it
was too dangerous to try and come back to England and that Granddad would be
around to look after him in the holidays. Harry missed his parents very
much, especially his mother who used to send him parcels of sweets and
chocolate and books from America. There was often a letter and a photograph
and Harry sometimes wondered how the parcels managed to get through but his
parents never made it back to England. Harry had been apart from his parents
for so long he sometimes had trouble remembering what they looked like.
Granddad had taken care of him since he was old enough to walk as both of his
parents worked, but Harry didn't really mind as Granddad was great fun and
very, very clever. Suddenly he was startled by a voice. "You still waiting
Watkins?" It was the headmaster, Mr Montague. He was a tall, broad shouldered
man with a big moustache. He was nearly as old as Granddad, Harry thought.
"Yes sir" said Harry. "Granddad is a little late Sir." "Well, I'm sure he'll
be here soon" he smiled and just as he said it the familiar sound of
Granddads' car blasted through the silence. The snow had stopped and the Alvis
had made deep tracks on the driveway up to the main doors of Wainwrights.
"You wait here a second will you Watkins" said Mr Montague and marched off
towards the car where Granddad was fumbling with his tie. Granddad always wore
a tie, in fact Harry had never seen a Granddad without a tie, whether it was
a normal one or sometimes a bow tie which was very dashing. As Harry bent
down to pick up his small suitcase he realised that the catch had come
undone. "That was lucky" he thought, as if he'd picked up the suitcase
straight away it probably would have come open spilling the contents all
over the polished wooden floor. Harry refastened the catch, clutched the
suitcase firmly and stood up straight. As he did so, to his surprise he saw
Mr Montague and granddad standing on the steps. Through the half closed doors
and stained glass panels he was sure, well quite sure anyway, that Mr Montague was
saluting granddad. But that was silly, why would Mr Montague, who Harry knew
was an ex-army Captain salute his Granddad? "Off you go Watkins,
see you after Christmas." "Thank you sir" said Harry and rushed past him
towards the car. "Pop the case on the back seat and jump in old bean".
Granddad always called Harry old bean. He really didn't know why but he
didn't care, Granddad was here at last. As they sped off through the snow
Granddad offered Harry a toffee. Granddad loved toffees almost as much as
Harry did and he always carried a paper bag of them in his big coat, along with
lots of other things, penknives, string, a magnifying glass, pens, pencils
and a notebook. In fact it was a wonder how he managed to walk with all that stuff
in his pockets. As they sped along the country roads lined with trees and
hedges the noise of the Alvis's engine sounded like 1000 galloping horses
with thunder in the background. "Soon be home" called Granddad over the
noise. Harry smiled to himself.

Chapter 2

Battleships
and bull's-eyes

The smell of the wood burning on the fire and the taste
of the cup of sweet cocoa was bliss. As he sat almost swamped by the huge
wings and arms of the soft chair in Granddads sitting room he wondered what
was for tea. He couldn't quite make out the delicious smell coming from the
kitchen, but as Granddad said, his kitchen and his study was out of bounds to
Harry and also to Mrs Finch, the housekeeper. She only came in to "do" for
Granddad three mornings a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday mornings,
regular as clockwork but never when Harry was there. Granddad said it was
because he liked to spend time with Harry "without women fussing around
little boys and calling them little loves". "Yuck" thought Harry.

"Tea's ready old bean" came Granddad's voice from the kitchen. The old wooden table was laid out with the
roast vegetables grown on Granddad's allotment and the centrepiece was a huge
roast bird – a turkey maybe? Although rationing continued long after the war it
didn't seem to affect Granddad much as he seemed to be able to either forage
for, grow, catch or shoot all the food he needed. The small amount of
garden at the back of his cottage backed onto Lord Winston's estate and as
he and Granddad were old school friends he was allowed to shoot birds,
rabbits and deer on the estate.

As they ate Granddad asked Harry how he was getting on
at school, about his classes and how well he had done in his exams, how his
friends Jumbo, Freddie and Blinky were doing and how many goals and tries
he'd scored in sport. It was always the same, he would ask the questions,
Harry would answer over the meal and then it was time to wash up. Harry
always helped, "as a young gentleman should" explained Granddad. After tea
Harry sat beside the fire looking into the flames. There was a knock at the
door. "Stay there" said Granddad and lifted his shotgun down from the
mantelpiece. "You can't be too careful" he said, putting his finger up to
his mouth indicating to Harry to be quiet.

But there was no need to be worried, it was only Mrs
Finch. She'd brought round a telegram for Granddad and he'd asked her in for
a sherry and a mince pie. "Hello Harry – how's my little love?" She cooed.
"Very well thank you Mrs Finch" Harry replied in his best "I am thinking
yuck but don't show it" voice. "You're so very lucky to be able to spend so
much time here with 'Major'.... I mean 'Mr' Watkins. You be a good boy now.
I must be off, cheerio," and off she went in such a rush she almost fell
over the rug at the door. "Women eh?" laughed Granddad and put the gun back
on the mantelpiece. "I should think you'd be old enough to teach to shoot by
now eh, Harry old bean? You're nearly 14 aren't you?" "Well almost and yes,
I would like that very much thank you." "Well, we'll have a go tomorrow then
but first, how about a game of battleships?" Harry loved battleships. If
you've never played it, it goes something like this. Each player draws a
grid of squares on a piece of paper, usually 10 squares wide by 10 squares
high,
making 100 squares in all. They are labelled 1-10 on the bottom row and A -J on the
edge. Each player then fills in groups of squares to show where his
ships are. One row of five squares is an aircraft carrier, one row of four is
a battleship, two rows each of three can be either a cruiser, frigate,
corvette or submarine and two rows of two are torpedo boats. Each player
calls out a grid reference like A2 or G6 and if a hit is scored on the other
players ship then it gets crossed off until all of the opposing players
ships are sunk. Harry and Granddad loved this game and always but always
ate bull's-eyes when they played it. Harry liked bull's-eyes even more
than toffee, but not quite as much as chocolate. "Harry, you win again." He
always did and he was sure Granddad let him win because he always seemed to
put his ships in the same places. It was always in the same pattern and each
night they played the pattern would turn around like the hands on Granddad's
big clock. 12 o'clock, 3 o'clock, six, nine and back to 12 again. Harry had
spotted this a while ago but Granddad didn't seem to mind at all. He always
smiled and tossed Harry another bull's-eye every time he lost another ship.
Over Christmas Mrs Finch came around with milk, butter, bread and more
letters and telegrams for Granddad. They always went into the garden to talk,
except when it was raining. Then they went into the parlour which was
Granddad's "best room for entertaining guests" he said. It was full of nice
chairs, cabinets displaying china plates and cups and another tall cupboard
that was always locked. Harry had tried the door once but it was firmly and
securely locked tight. He'd tried looking through the keyhole and could see
a wooden box with yellow writing on it. The only word he could see or make
out was the word 'hand'. Later in the week Harry was learning how to shoot a
shotgun. He'd never even held a real gun before so this was very exciting
and also a little scary. Granddad had loaded it and had shown him what to
do. "Now remember, pull the gun into your shoulder and lean into it to counteract
the kick . Then just squeeze the trigger slowly. "Kabaam!" Granddad couldn't
stop laughing as he bent down to pick Harry up off the leafy ground. He'd
flown back about 6 feet and shot the bird table clean through instead of his
intended target, the marrow on a stick. "How did I do?" Harry wheezed. "Fine,
just fine" Granddad laughed. "A few more like that and you'll be a pro and
I'll have to rebuild the garden! Har Har Har!" They both laughed until their
sides ached. After a few more shots and a few more falls, Harry got the hang
of it and managed to hit four marrows on sticks. Granddad then showed him how
to follow a moving target by swinging a marrow from a tree branch on a
length of hairy string. Much to his surprise Harry hit it first time. Over
and over again he did it until it was getting too dark to see, so they went
indoors for some sandwiches and lemonade. "I can see you'll to make a fine
marksman, perhaps even a fine soldier one day, Harry old bean." "Thanks"
Harry mumbled through his cheese and onion sandwich.